


Awakening

by LPSunnyBunny



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate universe - Kids as Trolls, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), M/M, Masturbation, Mutant Dave Strider, POV Second Person, Troll Culture (Homestuck), sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPSunnyBunny/pseuds/LPSunnyBunny
Summary: Growing up in a society where literally everything is out to get him, Dave stresses over something he never expected to feel.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56
Collections: Stridercest Secret Santa, Sunny's Portfolio





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuclearwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearwinter/gifts).



> Written as part of the 2020 Stridercest exchange! I hope you enjoy it <3 <3

No one ever said growing up on a planet that wants you dead would be  _ easy. _

It's a pretty universally known fact on Alternia that if you're a lowblood, your chances of making it off-planet are already pretty low, unless you keep your head down and your nose out of other's business. 

So that's really what you try to do, especially with your  _ other  _ little problem. You know, the off-hemospectrum-blood-color problem. The cull-on-sight problem. The one-fuckup-around-your-friends-and-you're-dead problem.

Yikes! You don't like thinking about it if you don't have to, so you really really do your best to just not think about how the mutant bright red blood pumping through your veins would have any troll drawing their weapon on you in less than half a second if you so much as tripped and skinned your knee.

It's a miracle that you haven't just gone off the deep end and lost it, honestly. But you've always had more self preservation than the average troll, which is how you've made it past your 7th sweep and ended up with an actual friend plopped onto your couch, the two of you jamming out some sick kickflips in Troll Tony Hawk. 

You glance at Dirk out of the corner of your eye, thankful that your shades hide the motion. Dirk is one of the chillest dudes you've ever met- he's a bronze with a knack for robotics and the two of you just hit it way the fuck off. Knocked it out of the goddamn park. The two of you just  _ mesh  _ on a level that probably should be scary? But more than anything else, just has you feeling so fucking chill when you're around him.

A little crease appears between his brow as he frowns, leaning forwards slightly as he tries to make Troll Tony Hawk pull off a sick grind and you can't look away, your own Troll Tony Hawk rolling along idly like the world's saddest example of a hivehold name celebrity. 

See, that's another thing that you can't quite figure out. You want to be around Dirk. You want to be around him  _ so much _ . When you see his Trollian handle switch to online in the evenings, your heart beats faster and you practically throw yourself into your chair to word vomit whatever latest rap you're working on to him for his approval, hating the fact that you're probably coming off  _ suuuuper  _ clingy but not being able to do anything about it. You're  _ captivated  _ by him, by his wit and the way he makes you grin and want to do stupid things like leave your hive to come visit him.

(He might be under the impression that you're agoraphobic. It's the easiest explanation for why you don't like leaving your hive.)

There's a sickening  _ crack  _ and crunch of video game violence from the TV and Dirk tilts his head in a laugh, teeth flashing as he grins, one corner of his mouth pulled up higher than the other and you can see his eyes closed behind his shades for just a moment and the sight of his laugh has you struck dumb, mouth dry, palms sweating, stomach twisting and heart pounding so hard you feel  _ dizzy _ . 

What the fuck? Are you sick? Holy shit. You really don't like this feeling, it's uncomfortable and gut-wrenching and as Dirk turns and says something to you, still smiling, you can't really hear him over the rush of blood in your ears. Stay fucking cool, Dave, you got this. 

"Yeah." You say, in response to whatever he said, hoping that's the response he's looking for. It most definitely isn't, because the smile slips from his face, his lips shifting into a frown that makes the hot feeling in your chest melt into cold, uncomfortable guilt as his lips move. 

You force yourself to focus. He's asking if you're okay.

"Yeah." You repeat. "I mean- yes. I'm fine. Just- feeling a bit dizzy, you know? Too many redbulls makes my brain go all fuzzy." Phew, deflect with a joke, hopefully he takes it and runs with it.

Dirk is frowning still. Man, you really don't like that. He shouldn't be frowning, it was a lot better when he was smiling. He should always be smiling, he's so fucking handsome like that, when he's frowning it makes you want to curl up into a ball and hide. 

Wait. Back up.

_ Handsome? _

"Are you sure?" Dirk asks, slicing through your buzzing thoughts as effortlessly as his katana through paper. "You look like you're going to puke." 

"I'm fine," You say, mentally slapping yourself like a protag in an Eastern Alternian anime.  _ Get your head together, Dave! For fuck's sake.  _ You pause to revise that, but decide to stick with it. "Nah, really, I'm fine. Just feeling a bit off, don't worry about it."

Dirk is still looking at you with concern and you are really not equipped to handle this right now, because your stomach is tight under his attention and all you can do is stare at his lips. His lips, which look soft as shit and you really kind of want to know what they feel like? Maybe on yours-

Okay. Okay hold up. Hold the fucking horses back, corral those bitches, pump the breaks on this goddamn train. You have no fucking idea where these wild thoughts are coming from and it's kind of freaking you out? First thinking Dirk is  _ handsome,  _ which, well, he is, anyone with  _ eyes  _ can see it, but- thinking about his mouth and k

_ DEFINITELY NOT THINKING ABOUT KISSING HIM _ holy shit no fucking way you were absolutely not doing that not at all in the slightest god no you're not into him like that, you're just two dudes being guys, hanging out and being bros, there's absolutely nothing romantic about that! At all!

God dammit your face is getting hotter and hotter and you are absolutely spiraling like a dipshit while Dirk is sitting, waiting for an answer to whatever question he asked-

His hand is

on your forehead.

You are pretty ashamed to say that you stop functioning completely for a moment as he frowns at you, checking your temperature.

"You're burning up." He says. "Shit, Dave, I think you're sick. We should probably get you to your recooperacoon." 

Wait- if you get into your 'coon, then Dirk will  _ leave. _ That  _ sucks _ . You don't want that at all- you don't get to hang out with Dirk nearly as much as you want.

"No, I'm fine." You insist, panic making your heart pound harder. "I swear- it's all good. I'm chill. I'm the chillest motherfucker on this planet."

He frowns, not convinced, but wow you feel the instant loss of his hand leaving your forehead  _ hard  _ and for a moment you contemplate collapsing into his lap so he'll fret over you like a moirail just to get him to touch you again.

Wait. Oh my god. Is he pale for you?? Checking your temperature, offering you concern- that's moirail behavior, right? God, you're absolute garbage at this. 

"I don't think you are." Dirk says. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I had pizza this evening." You say. "I'm telling you, I'm  _ fine. _ " 

The idea that Dirk might be pale for you is- dizzying and discomforting all at once and you can't put your finger on  _ why _ . You feel like you're going to puke from nerves and a heart-pounding excitement and- 

Dirk's hand is on your arm, hauling you to your feet. 

"Yeah, you're not okay." He says, tugging you towards your room. You offer a token protest because you don't want this hangout to be over, but Dirk seems to be determined to get you into your 'coon. 

"I'm fine!" You protest, hating the hint of a stupid, grublike whine that enters your voice, but it's all made okay because Dirk huffs another laugh as he opens your door. 

"Right." He says. "Tell that to Crowdad." 

You wilt. Crowdad will probably take one look at you and kick your ass for even having a friend over. 

"Alright, alright." You grumble, even though you're  _ fine,  _ you just had a weird dizzy spell for no reason. Dirk steps close and his fingers reach for your shirt, starting to tug it up to take it off, but before you even realize what's happening, panic's spiked through your veins and you're hopping back, batting his fingers away with a yelp.

Holy shit no he can't see your grubscars your life would be  _ over _ and he would just cull you on the spot, fuck-

You see  _ something  _ flash across his face, too fast to be caught, but he raises his hands and steps back.

"My bad-" he says, as you say,

"Shit, sorry-" 

You both stop, make an attempt to talk again, like something out of a stupid movie, before Dirk shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, personal space and all that." He says, shoving his hands into his pockets, a weird set to his shoulders. With a sinking heart, you wonder if maybe he- he saw your grubscars in the heartbeats he was lifting your shirt? Somehow? You turn away, fiddling with the hem nervously, a sinking, cold stone in your gut.

"I'll show myself out." Dirk says, the words like daggers in your back. "Get some sleep, okay? We'll hang out when you're feeling better."

Pretty words. How is it in the span of not even five minutes you've managed to fuck things up?? Jesus, you're pathetic, and not even in a romatically likeable way. You manage to nod, throat tight, and then there's the click of a door behind you as Dirk leaves. 

You wait a couple of heartbeats to see if he's coming back- but when he doesn't, you tear off your shirt angrily, tears flooding your eyes. You're such a fuckup, it was just a simple hangout- no wonder you don't have many friends, who the hell would want to hang out with you, a stupid mutant troll who can't even chill and play video games right?

You sink into your recooperacoon for lack of anything better to do as you press the heels of your hands to your eyes and try not to give in to the hot burning building behind them. Wow. You really just fucked up everything with one little go, huh? Alright. God. You're so stupid.

Eventually, you climb back out of your recooperacoon after it becomes clear that you're not actually sick (just stupid), clean yourself off, and get dressed again, dropping yourself in front of your computer and curling up in your chair, resting your chin on your knees as you stare sightlessly at your computer screen. 

The colors of all your friend's names blink at you- and there's your own handle, cowardly grey. You could fake a color, pretend you're a burgundy, but it wouldn't feel… right. You  _ hate  _ hiding, but it's all you're good at. Hiding your color, hiding from the world, hiding from your friends- wow, look at you, you're so good at it that you're hiding by getting rid of your friends! Great!

You press your forehead to your knees and hug your legs tightly. You feel like you want to be sick. Dirk probably wants nothing to do with you anymore. That look on his face- man, he probably was super upset. If he's pale for you (and that makes your gut churn and you  _ don't know why _ -) then that was basically an outright rejection towards his concern for you. Fuck. Fuck!

You don't want to lose him. Hell, you'll say you're pale for him back too, if that's what it takes.

You open your trollian. Stare at his orange handle. You even put your hands on your keyboard.

In the end, though, you're a coward, so you don't send anything.

You spend the next day and a half moping and trying to figure out why the fuck you're an idiot, staring at your computer and the unanswered messages from your friends. You're feeling the itch of doing something stupid, something desperate, and it's only the fact that Dirk hasn't messaged you at all that stops you from doing it.

You normally chat every day. He hasn't sent you a single message since you basically spat on his pale gestures and ground them in the dirt. His silence is like nails into your heart and you sprawl face down on the couch for hours as you try to imagine the shape of your life without him. 

It hurts. You don't like it. It's an ache in your chest, one that consumes your entire being and leaves you eating ice cream right from the carton like a pity-sick little grub after their first breakup. 

It doesn't really help. You think it's pretty shit that the movies lied to you about it helping. Instead, you spend hours thinking about Dirk and your friendship and how you feel like your chest is tearing itself apart at the idea of Dirk never wanting to see you again. 

Fuck, Dirk is just- he's so good. You really like hanging out with him and chilling with him and doing nothing but shooting the shit and talking and playing video games and chatting with him for  _ hours  _ on end and you feel like crying when you think about how you might never get to see his uneven grin or hear his laugh ever again.

On the third day of your self-inflicted pity party, Dirk messages you. The second you see that orange pop up, you're throwing yourself bodily into your chair and devouring the messages with a fierce desperation for any hint that you didn't burn that bridge.

timaeusTestified [TT] started trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Hey.  
TT: Feeling any better?  
TT: I hope your sickness didn't kick your ass too hard.

You stare at the screen, text box curser blinking like a silent accusation of your cowardice. 

_ Holy shit I'm so sorry- _

_ I didn't mean to- _

_ Are you pale for me?? _

Words run through your head at the speed of a million per second, but you can't seem to come up with the right words to actually put down on your screen.

So, like the coward you are, you don't say anything. Terrified that whatever answer you give will be met with 'cool, now stop talking to me'. You want Dirk to be your friend, to still want to be around you, you'll take anything you can get-

Wait. Wait wait.

You feel your face getting hot. 

That- that was almost-

Your heart squeezes in your chest as you shove your chair back, putting your keyboard out of reach, to stop yourself from typing something stupid as you run your hands through your hair, trying to figure out why your gut feels tight, why you're squirming in your chair when you think about Dirk and- 

and and and-

and-

Fuck. 

  
  


You're so fucked, aren't you? Because you're thinking about Dirk and all you can think about is the wrap of his fingers around a controller, the way his lips look soft as hell and you want to k

Oh, fuck.

You want to kiss them. 

You want… to kiss him? Holy shit. Okay. Okay. Um. This is new. Uh. Um. You don't know what to do. You're staring at the orange text of someone you might be in l- in p- in- might be feeling-  _ things  _ for, but your heart is sinking because if Dirk is  _ pale _ , or if Dirk doesn't want to hang around you, then…

Then… your feelings are… worthless.

Why are you kidding yourself? You're a mutant. It's not like you could pail with anyone  _ anyway _ . Your slurry is a dead giveaway for your mutation.

Fuck. You bury your head in your knees as a wave of cripplingly strong loneliness washes over you. 

This sucks.

This  _ fucking  _ sucks and you hate this, you hate being a mutant, you hate Alternia, you hate everything. You want to be anywhere else, be any _ one  _ else. 

But you can't be.

You're stuck as you.

This time the tears really do fall, soaking into your pants where no one can see their ugly, heretical color. The color that Dirk would cull you over. The color that means that no one will want you, not really- and that you can't want anyone else. 

You stay like this, curled up. You don't know how long, but by the time you uncurl you see that Dirk isn't online anymore. You shakily scoot over to your computer again and start picking out some messages.

TG: haha yeah dont worry im troll gucci over here  
TG: just knocked me on my sweet ass for a couple of days  
TG: still not feeling one hundo percento again  
TG: but thats how it is sometimes  
TG: sometimes you get a cold and have it for half a year  
TG: sometimes you get a fever and its gone in four hours  
TG: nah dont worry about me though im fine  
TG: green lights across the board with the exception of a few yellows  
TG: and those yellows are flickering to green so we are good to go anyway  
TG: well for a matter of good to go anyway  
TG: still pretty tired

It's at this point that you have to stop to scrub your eyes- it's kind of hard to type when the screen is too blurry to see.

TG: sorry about basically running you out of my hive for being sick on you  
TG: super uncool negative bro points right there  
TG: ill make it up to you though   
TG: we can hang out another time and this time ill get the pizza  
TG: i know super generous of me  
TG: troll king of generosity over here  
TG: you better recognize

In an instant, Dirk is online and typing and you jump as you see his orange pop up.

TT: Don't worry about it, things happen.  
TT: The important thing is that you're doing better now.   
TT: I'll take you up on that pizza, though.  
TT: I could come by tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it?

_ Tomorrow?????  _ Oh, fuck, you are not ready for that, not ready to face Dirk when you JUST had the realization of some maybe less-than-platonic feelings for him.

TG: shit i dunno if ill be up to it  
TG: still not one hundred remember  
TG: id hate to entertain you when im not completely prepared  
TG: thats being a bad host  
TG: and damn you dont deserve that  
TG: only the finest hosting for you  
TG: fake champagne with little paper umbrellas in them  
TT: I think you could be a good host even with your hands tied behind your back but, regardless, if you're still feeling under the weather, then we can put it off.  
TT: I wouldn't wish to strain you while you are still recovering.  
TT: Do you know what you have?  
TG: no clue  
TG: but it sucks  
TT: Sickness is rarely fun, in my experience.  
TT: Still,  
TT: I hope you feel better soon.  
TG: thanks

timeausTestified [TT] has stopped pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

There is a sinking feeling in your gut as you stare at your screen and wonder how long it will take for Dirk to reject you completely. You close your computer and go lie on the couch again, burying your face in your arms as you fight off more tears. 

You can't be with him. You can't be with  _ anyone.  _ That's how it is. You'll live alone forever, unable to date anyone because they'll want to hit the bone zone and that is a place you  _ can't  _ go, let alone take off your shirt because even just your grubscars are a  _ cull on sight  _ signal. 

You won't ever be able to pail. You squirm, resting your face against your forearms, as your thoughts of Dirk swirl, shift in a new direction. You'll never be able to kiss Dirk, or hold him close, or nuzzle his cheek or kiss the dip of his throat or-

You shudder. 

What the fuck? 

There's something new and hot in your stomach, your cheeks flushing as you think about the way Dirk would probably smooth his hands up your forearms, smiling at you- you squirm, rubbing your thighs together, mind drifting to Dirk's hands, his careful fingers, the way they would feel touching your-

You jolt up onto your hands and knees, staring at nothing with wide eyes.

Oh- oh. Oh. Oh. Okay. Okay. Okay. 

  
Okay.

This is-

Wow. Okay. This hurts. This really hurts, because you know you can't have anyone, you can't- but you're still turning over onto your side, still running your hand down your stomach to experimentally slide into your pants, shivering as you carefully touch what you've got going on down there.

You haven't really… not ever, not…  _ really,  _ you guess, well, you've had wet dreams, you think? But you haven't really… touched yourself. Not like this, not deliberately while thinking of…

"Dirk…" 

You swallow through your croak of his name, shivering with arousal. That's what it is- it's  _ arousal, _ a horny drag behind your hips that is waking to life, thinking about Dirk over you, touching you-  _ touching _ you, your- 

You almost can't think it, it feels too dirty. The idea of Dirk touching you  _ down there  _ is- it's got your face hot, your fingers slowly rubbing over and touching the spaces getting wet, the length slipping free, trying not to think too hard about what you're doing as your hips instinctively rock into the touch.

"Mmmh- hah…." You groan softly at the pleasurable touch, eyes closed. It feels… gross, to be doing this and thinking of your friend, imagining his touch and his smile. Like you're sullying the idea of him, but… but you  _ want  _ him.

Oh, fuck. You want him. 

You  _ can't have him. _ But god help you, you fucking want him.

You tuck your face into your free arm and rock your hips into your hand, eyes squeezed shut, shades riding up. It feels- it feels good, but you're trying not to think too hard about it, picturing Dirk curled around your back, touching you, whispering in your ear as he touches your bulge, clever fingers squeezing and massaging it and-

You gasp and shudder, sinking your teeth into your shirt sleeve as you cum on a bolt of hot, embarrassed pleasure, little molten waves of release pulsing through you as you try not to whimper. 

You might fail more than a little, but it's okay because there's no one around to hear you.

In the end, it takes four days of moping and trying to get over your stupid fucking flushcrush before the consequences of your actions hit.

TT: You don't have to respond to these messages, it's alright.  
TT: I know that I'm probably the last troll you want to talk to right now.  
TT: But I want to apologize.  
TT: I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry for acting like your matesprit.   
TT: It didn't mean anything, I was simply concerned about you.  
TT: I'll do better about it in the future.  
TT: That is, if you still want to be friends. I'd understand if you don't.  


You stare blankly at your screen, trying to process. Your hands move before you can think about it.

TG: it didnt mean anything  
TT: Is that a question or an agreement?  
TG: uh  
TG: question i guess  
TT: Alright.  
TT: It doesn't have to mean anything.  
TT: It clearly made you uncomfortable, so I'm sorry.   
TG: did you mean it

What the fuck are you doing. You fucking  _ hate  _ yourself because even if he says yes, he meant it, what the fuck are you going to do? Tell him you like him back? Fuck, you can't have him. You're so goddamn stupid.

TT: Mean… what?  
TG: i  
TG: fuck i dunno  
TG: the   
TG: feelings  
TG: wow i am so not good at this what the fuck am i doing  
TT: Oh.   
TT: Is it a problem if I say yes?  
TG: um  
TG: maybe  
TG: i dunno  
TG: probably not im  
TG: fuck you know how it is words vomiting everywhere with me but nothing really coming out  
TG: hours spend just listening to me mindlessly ramble on about stupid shit that doesnt matter  
TT: I like listening to you ramble.  
TG: oh  
TG: you do question mark  
TG: why  
TT: I like the sound of your voice.

You're so fucked.

TT: It's nice to watch you be passionate about something.   
TT: You have a way of speaking that is entracing and I enjoy listening to it.  
TT: As one might say, it is sicknasty as shit.

You're  _ so  _ fucked.

TG: so  
TG: i take it to mean that youre uh  
TT: Flushed for you?  
TT: Yes. Have been for a while, actually, so thanks for noticing.  
TG: fuck off okay sorry if im not emotionally savvy  
TG: we cant all be troll marco polo some of us are stuck in a cave with no map and a flashlight thats on its last legs  
TG: like damn maybe a dude is still stumbling over rocks when everyone else is at the exit because hes got no way to know which way he should be going  
TT: Well.  
TT: I'm happy to be a map for you.  
TG: wow okay that was corny as shit and im docking you cool points  
TT: Fair.   
TT: That was rather lame.  
TG: so  
TG: what now i guess  
TT: Well, that depends on you.   
TT: Do you *want* to be matesprits?  
TG: um  
TG: i dunno  
TG: theres this  
TG: thing  
TT: Thing?  
TG: i cant really talk about it but  
TG: it means i cant date anyone  
TG: like at all  
TG: i swear this isnt like a stupid oh i have a secret but cant tell you but there is no secret its just a made up front like  
TG: i  
TG: think i want to be your matesprit  
TG: maybe  
TG: probably

Definitely.

TG: but i just  
TG: cant  
TT: It's alright.  
TT: I understand.  
TT: If you change your mind or you become able to, then I'm here.  
TT I don't see my feelings going away anytime soon.   
TT: So, do with that what you will, I suppose.  
TG: okay  
TG: thanks for being so chill about this  
TT: Dave.  
TT: Chill is my middle name.  
TG: ha right  
TG: how could i forget

  
  
  


It's another two weeks before you're able to work up the nerve to let him come over again- and then its another two weeks of staring at him out of the corner of your eye when he visits and staring at the text on your screen and staring at your hands and hating hating  _ hating  _ yourself because he's so gorgeous and he's right there within your reach and you  _ want  _ him and he wants  _ you  _ for some god forsaken reason and you  _ can't have him. _

But no one has ever accused you of being smart.

Your feelings bubble in your chest, make you dizzy, make you  _ sick  _ with want. You want him. You want Dirk so bad that you find yourself sobbing in the late mornings, shamefully jerking off more in the last couple of weeks than the rest of your entire goddamn life.

But it can't last. You can't keep this up, you'll go  _ insane  _ and you're about ready to tear your hair out.

Dirk's on the couch next to you and he's so fucking pretty and you're openly staring and he knows it. He meets your eyes and you look away, face hot, and when you look back, he's still looking at you.

There's an expression on his face that you've never seen before. He sets his controller down lightly, the  _ click  _ of the plastic on wood transfixing you. 

He moves. You should stop him.

You don't.

He's close, closer than any other troll has ever been and you're staring at his mouth as his face moves close to yours.

You should stop him. You  _ need  _ to stop him. This can't happen. 

You don't stop him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


His lips are just as soft as you imagined.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It was very strange to type as Dave with grey text lol. Anyway, if you like my writing, check me out on Twitter [@LPSunnyBunny](http://www.twitter.com/LPSunnyBunny)! <3


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